The Dallas daily herald. [volume] (Dallas, Tex.) 1873-1887, 1887-03-19

up the lovely burden surrendered to
him and bore her, with the strength
and speed OF an athlete back to the
glare and languorous perfumes OF the
ballroom.
"Her life is mine, her life is mine!"
he muttered, in his half deirious Joy,
as he felt the pulsations OF her heart
answering 20 the wild throbblngs OF
the poison-charged arteries OF his
breast.
Awe-stricken. the wedding jewellers
cleared the floor OF the dance hall.
There were rapid questionings and az
itated replies; there were groans here
and there and sobs half suppressed.
Then there was u silence as OF the
sephulchre in the garish house.
Through this silence stole the first
weird notes Of Bardinelli's Dance OF
Death.
No one looked at tho musician; ev-
cry eye was fastened on the bride.
She lay upon the wine-velvet of the
divan, white and rigid about her
traied the satin and lace and orange
flowers OF her bridal attire.
Bardinelli's violin was giving forth
quicker strains. So fantastic we're the
chords, now plaintive and imporing,
now full OF q mad energy, anon
dropping into fathomless depths
OF pathos, it seemed as though the
player were improvising the airs, tell
ing to the still figure upon the couch
the tale of life noble in it's dreams
and aspirations, tragic in It's failures.
Yet through the wondrous harmony
dropped ever, clear and pure as
shower of pearls, the notes OF the
rhythmic tarantella waltz.
The call to movement reached the
locked senses OF the dreamer. She
moved; she arose to her feet; she
glided over the floor. Her movements
were as rhy thmic as were the strains
of Bardinelli's violin, they were those
OF the Graces. Her face was the frozen
one of the doomed Iphigenia. Upon
the silence OF the room the Italians
medley wrought like magic. The we'd
ding guests swayed hither and thither
in grotesque mimicry of the dream
dancer upon the polished floor. The
breeze OF the night waited themyster-
Gus strains out through the open case
ments, and bore them past wondering
wayfarers upward to the empryean to
sweep the confines of other realms of
mystery.
Bardinelli was lending oil the Gun.
ming OF his hand TO rouse the suspend
ed faculties of his beloved pupil. The
heavy lids yelling her vision were slow
ltr IL. IL
once more photographed upon
the retina of the eye; the tinge of life
was returning to lip and cheek; her
movements had less of grace and more
OF energy. 1t were as though the
shackles OF flesh were being again riv-
eted upon the free movement of the
spirit. The statue had walked to life,
though another than Pygmalion
should reap the kisses OF those divine
ly parted lips.
Louder and louder swelled the waltz
melodies OF the forgotten musician.
One who casually glanced toward him
saw that he was contorted, and that
the veins in his forehead were purple
cords, tensely drawn. So might have
looked the LAGOON wrestling in the
folds OF the sea.monster.
Not the less surely, however, was
the master hand informed of the gen
ius of a deafness will, and the observ.
err, unknowng, turned again to mark |
the effects of his power upon her, who, !
like Eurydice, was being lured back |
from the world OF mystery and shadow
by his Orphic enchantments. Sudden
ly she stood still. The throng of spec
tators gazed at her. Their united |
breath would not have stirred the |
down OF % thistle puff. Her white !
bosom rose and fell. The orange |
blossoms looping her corsage trembled |
like sentient creatures filled with q |
passion OF Joy in her living warmth
and loneliness.
Hes eyes roved anxiously over the |
expectant assemblage. She was look
ING for some one.
For whom?
She smiled n dazzling smile OF recog-
milton, and joyously stretched forth 1
her arms. Her bridegroom hurried |
to meet and to take her into his em-
brace.
For the first time there was n dis |
cord in the music. No one noticed it
There was a break, a pause, then a
crash of chords, then silence.
cit was you who drew me back
among the living, Phil" murmured |
the bride, at rest on the heart OF her
husband. "Not the bands of death
could hold me from you yet, dear. 1t
was the yearning of my spirit that
spoke to you through the music OF
Bardnell's violin"
"Then, o my beloved" he answer
ed, in the abnegation of an humble
at is to Bardinelli | owe